


Coming Home

by cosmicenergy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, i cried ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicenergy/pseuds/cosmicenergy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Seeing them all together and happy, surrounded with smiles on their faces and peace in their minds, Percy is one hundred percent sure his mother's heart is made of gold.</i>
</p><p>aka the Percy/Sally reunion we all wanted but never received</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> for [María](http://somedemigod.tumblr.com/), I'm terribly sorry this is so overdue

His heart was _pounding_.

Worse than it had in the depths tartarus, worse than it had when he was fighting Gaea, worse than it had when Annabeth had taken a knife for him so many months ago.

His heart was pounding, and there was nothing anyone could do to make it stop.

But it wasn’t pounding in the love-struck, hope filled way it did when he looked at Annabeth, or the proud, upbeat way it did when he looked at his teammates, _his friends_.

Oh no, this pounding was much worse; filled with worry and anxiety and unanswered questions that couldn’t, wouldn’t be silenced, no matter how hard Percy tried to rid them from his brain.

_Had she changed?_

The beat quickened.

_Does she still love me?_

The tempo was upped.

_Did she forget about me?_

His heart roared for answers that is brain could not conjure up.

But he could see the answers. They were right in front of him, laid out on a silver platter ready to be handed to him at a moment’s notice, only if he could bring himself to step inside.

It was the apartment he had grown up in, making millions of memories as the days passed by. Now, he stood outside the front door, frozen in more fear than he could have ever imagined.

A stupid, simple wooden door was the only thing keeping Percy from getting the answers he so desired. But it was as if some otherworldly force was holding him back, keeping his hand hovering over the doorknob, not allowing him him to move an inch closer.

He inhaled a deep breath and felt his pulse quicken. This was it. He was finally home, so why was he so nervous?

When he steps through that door, everything should return back to normal.

(Though in his heart, he knows it won’t.)

In that moment, he feels like he’s drowning all over again; everything is dark and cold and empty, until he feels a warm hand reach out and touch his shoulder. The warmth is startling, but not unwelcome, and he instantly feels himself exhaling what sounds like a sigh of relief.

The hand grips his shoulder just a bit tighter and Percy turns left to see a pair of brown eyes looking back at him.

“Hey,” Grover says, releasing some of his grip. “Everything’s going to be fine, bud.”

(Percy wished he had his friend’s confidence.)

“He’s right, you know,” another voice calls out as he feels a hand intertwined with his own. Percy looks to his right, met with a pair of striking grey eyes looking back at him, their gaze unwavering.

He sighed again and squeezed her hand a little bit tighter.

 _He could do this_.

So, he did. Reaching out slowly and carefully, as though the door was going to explode because of his mere touch.

It didn’t explode, much to Percy’s relief and his friend’s exasperation.

The door seemed to open at a painfully slow pace, letting out a loud creak as it moved to reveal more and more of the interior of the apartment. _His_ apartment.

His _home_.

(In all honesty, Percy wasn’t sure if it was even going to feel like home anymore.)

But he entered anyway, casting aside all thoughts that begged him to plant his feet and not take another step further. They were silenced within seconds; Percy swore he was never going to listen to them again.

And he was glad he didn’t give in to their wants, for as soon as heard the door click shut behind him he was greeted with the familiarity of home that he hadn’t felt in so many long months.

He noticed that the color of the entrance hall was the same shade of blue that he had picked out from the paint store and the jars that were filled with sand and shells from the beaches at Montauk still littered the shelves that lined the walls. He could see family pictures scattered in between them as well; ones of Percy and Sally, and eventually Paul and Annabeth as well.

He even noticed a few pictures of Grover and himself from when they were young and carefree and unaffiliated with the chaos of gods and monsters that would soon quickly consume Percy’s life.

The rug under his feet felt just as soft as the one at his old school; when he was twelve and running up and down the halls at Yancy with some school friends, pretending that they were heroes from the Greek story that they were supposed to be creating. He smiled slightly at the memory; his days of pretending he was a hero were long gone.

He felt Grover’s hand propel him forward, and though his touch was slight, Percy was almost positive he held the power to move mountains. (Especially the ones that came in the form of teenage boys.)

So he let a breath escape from his lungs and took another tentative step forward. The texture of the rug was a comforting constant that made his journey down the hall a little bit easier, and by  the time he reached the end Percy felt as though he could breath again.

The living room, for the most part, had remained the same as well. The walls were still coated in olive green and bookshelves stretched across the walls as far as the eyes could see. The only difference, he noticed, were the abundance of books that overflowed from the shelves and seemed to spill onto the floor and coffee table in neat, orderly stacks.

He could even see the pieces of paper, the ones filled with the story that his mom had written, stacked so high they look as though one small gust of air could knock them over. The same television was still in the corner of the room; small and outdated yet probably one of the best things Percy had owned when growing up.

He was glad to find that his mother hadn’t gotten rid of it.

As his gaze shifted away from the living room, a bright light entered his field of view. It was the kitchen; the one that Percy had grown up inside making pancakes with his mother in the early hours of morning.

Today, there was the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafting through the air, bringing Percy back to his childhood filled with blue food dye and midnight snacks. His heart began to ache, longing to go back to those days.

(But alas, against his wishes, he had grown up somewhere throughout the years.)

He heard laughter chime through the doorway; an airy, light sounding noise that he had grown up with his entire life.

 _Mom_.

He didn’t wait for Grover to push on his shoulder before he stepped forward and into the kitchen.

It, too, was just as Percy remembered, minus the pot of spaghetti boiling on the stove and the tray of cookies lining the counter top next to it.

He’s eyes were instantly drawn to the two people in the room; one busy stacking the cookies in a jar, grabbing a bit of one without the other noticing, while the other seemed to absentmindedly stir the pasta and pretend to not notice the other’s doing.

When Percy knocked tentatively on the door frame, the first person’s head quickly shot upward. It was Paul, who had dropped the cookie he was holding in shock when he realized who was standing at the door.

“Sally, dear,” He began, a wide smile stretching across his face. “You might want to turn around.”

“For the last time, Paul,” She started, and Percy could tell she was rolling her eyes. “I saw you taking—”

Her words were cut short as their eyes met. She dropped the spoon she was holding onto the floor, ignoring the loud, clanging sound it made as it hit the tile.

“Percy?” She choked out, as if she was unsure her own son was standing no more than five feet away from her.

Percy smiled. A real, genuine smile for the first time in what felt like days. “Hi, mom.”

She let out a sob as she ran into his outstretched arms, and Percy remembered fondly a time when she used to be able to wrap her arms around him. Now, he was about a foot or so taller than her, making their hug slightly more uncomfortable than it was growing up.

(But Percy wouldn’t change it for the world.)

“How?” She gushed against his chest. “How are you here?”

He heard Paul and Annabeth starting to laugh, with Grover jumping in seconds later. Eventually, Percy found himself joining in with them.

“I don’t really know, mom.” He said once the laughter had died down and Sally has released some of her grip on his shoulders. “I guess I could thank some people for helping me make it this long.”

He watched Grover and Annabeth beam from over his mother’s shoulders.

“You two,” she said, pointing towards the duo standing a few feet away. “Come here! You come into my house and forget to give me a hug?”

Though Percy didn’t think it was possible, their smiles seemed to beam brighter as they joined in on what was quickly becoming a group hug. Percy could distinctly smell the orange conditioner Annabeth used every morning meld together with the coffee that Grover had drank on the drive over and the same perfume his mother applied every morning.

If this is what his home has turned into, Percy was completely open to the change.

* * *

_Percy stands back, gaze scanning the room once more. His eyes flicker from Paul and Grover, who are in the midst of a heated discussion about plant care, to Annabeth smiling back at him, to his mother reaching for the cookie jar. She turns around and pops the lid open, drawing everyone’s attention immediately to her._

_“You’re the best, Ms. Jackson!” Grover call out, outstretching his hand so she can drop a cookie down into it._

_“Thanks!” Annabeth says with a chuckle as Sally moves to hand one to her as well._

_“Don’t forget me,” jokes Paul, and the three of them dissolve into laughter as Sally’s face morphs from one of feigned annoyance to love._

_And then she turns to Percy._

_“Don’t think I forgot about you, mister,” she calls out, motioning for him to grab the last one._

_Seeing them all together and happy, surrounded with smiles on their faces and peace in their minds, Percy is one hundred percent sure his mother's heart is made of gold._


End file.
